


Trouble in the Kitchen

by kaneki_coffee



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Baking, Banter, Domestic Fluff, Implied Smut, M/M, Showers, maybe?? idek bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:08:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaneki_coffee/pseuds/kaneki_coffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amon, a failure at any kind of cooking, wants to bake Akira a cake for her birthday, but it goes horribly wrong. Kaneki cheers him up though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble in the Kitchen

Kaneki opened the door with a bump of his hip, sliding through the small opening and throwing his bag onto the floor before closing the door with a soft click. He shrugged off his coat and walked out of the entry hallway, glancing into the empty bedroom as he passed. He frowned and walked into the dining area, draping his coat on the back of his chair and peeking into the kitchen. Amon was standing with his hands on his hips, facing away and reading a book on the counter. Kaneki smiled and slipped into the room, lacing his arms around his partner and kissing the top of his shoulder. It was the only place he could reach. 

 

“You’re home early,” he commented, tugging Amon to face him and rocking back on his feet to stare into his face. 

 

Amon wrapped his arms around Kaneki’s neck and bent over to share a quick kiss. “It was an easy day,” he replied. “Just some basic paperwork from the last mission.” He let go of Kaneki and turned back to face his book, his fingers playing with the corner of a page.

 

Kaneki walked to the cupboard and pulled out a glass, moving to the sink to fill it with water. “Don’t you usually head to the gym on days like this?” he asked over the sound of running water. He twisted the faucet off and took a gulp before continuing. “And I thought you promised me that you would avoid the kitchen after the last incident.” He gently placed his glass beside Amon and lifted himself to sit on the counter. Tapping the page to catch Amon’s attention, he pointed his finger to the ceiling above them. “Look. The burn marks still don’t come off.”

 

Amon stared at them for a moment. “It was an accident?” he tried, but Kaneki was already shaking his head. 

 

“Nice try, but no. You set your dinner on fire.” He mimed a tiny explosion with his hands, adding a small “boom” for dramatic effect.

 

Amon scoffed and began pulling out mixing bowls from the cupboard above him. “Stop that. It didn’t explode. And I wouldn’t have thrown it in the air if you hadn’t poked me in the side as I was pulling it out of the oven. So it’s not totally my fault.”

 

Kaneki kicked his feet in the air and lifted the glass to his face, humming. “I didn’t poke you, Koutarou. I gently tapped your shoulder to warn you that you had baked it to a crisp.”

 

Amon dropped the wooden mixing spoon in his hand and turned to Kaneki, protesting. “It was supposed to look like that!”

 

Kaneki choked on his water and laughed, accidentally splashing his face. He wiped his chin and leaned across the counter to place the glass in the sink before turning to face Amon again. “No, it wasn’t! The entire thing burst into bits when the pan hit the ceiling! There was _ash_ falling to the floor. I love you, Koutarou, but you can’t cook. Please, stop while you’re ahead. Why are you in the kitchen?” He took hold of Amon’s hands and stared into his eyes. “Whatever it is, I can do it.”

 

Amon made a face and pulled his hands away, walking to the fridge and pulling out a jug of milk, a stick of butter, and a carton of eggs. He balanced the carton on his forearm, and Kaneki flinched, waiting for them to drop to the floor. Amon noticed and stuck out his tongue as he walked back to the cookbook.

 

“I won’t drop the eggs, Kaneki. A little faith, please.”

 

Kaneki nodded graciously, but hopped off the counter to take the eggs anyway, placing them safely where he once sat. “Why are you cooking?” he prompted.

 

“It’s Akira’s birthday tomorrow,” Amon replied, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and loosening the collar. “Since her father isn’t around, it’s up to us to make it special. I’m baking the cake.”

 

“So…you want to poison her?”

 

Amon took a fistful of flour and threw it over his shoulder and into Kaneki’s face, not amused. Kaneki drew away spluttering and gagging, wiping his tongue with his sleeve.

 

“Ugh,” Kaneki spat, grimacing from the horrible taste. “First victim down!”

 

“I always knew it would end this way,” Amon answered dryly, cracking an egg in the mixing bowl. “We were never meant to be.”

 

Kaneki grabbed a handful of flour and hopped to smear it on Amon’s cheek before leaping a few feet back for safety. “Payback!” he yelled with a smirk.

 

Amon turned to face him, hands on his hips. His face would have looked serious if it wasn’t for the comical white smear across his cheek that ended at the tip of his mouth. It looked like a lopsided grin. “Enough. You need to go shower,” he reprimanded, pointing to the hallway. “And leave me in peace to bake.”

 

Kaneki let his arms drop, and leaned around Amon to look at the unfinished cake batter. There was only an egg yolk and chocolate powder in the bowl, but the rest of the ingredients sat untouched on the counter. “Fine,” he responded, already raising his shirt above his head. “But you’re not allowed to put it in the oven until I’m back. Seriously, Koutarou. I don’t want to step out of the shower to find the kitchen burning down.”

 

Amon let out a small yell of frustration as Kaneki hopped out of the room, pulling off a shoe. “It was one time! We had insurance!”

 

Kaneki laughed, and entered their bedroom, pulling off his other shoe and slipping out of his pants. He could hear Amon in the kitchen, rustling through the bags as he searched for a particular ingredient. He pursed his lips, pushing his hair off his forehead as he tried to figure out how much time he really had. Quick shower, or long? A crash came from the kitchen. He scrambled to the bathroom, kicking off his boxers as he went. Quick it was.

 

He spun the shower faucet on and leaped in, dancing around the stream for a few seconds as he waited for the water to heat up. Ducking his head under the water, he rinsed the flour from his hair, grabbing the shampoo and squeezing the last bit from the bottle. As he ran it through his hair with jerky movements, he heard heavy footsteps enter the bathroom.

 

“Koutarou?” he called, poking his head out. Amon stood in front of the bath, hugging the bowl to his chest. The flour was still smeared on his face, although it looked like he had tried to rub it off with his shoulder.

 

“Kaneki, I know I told you to shower and all, but I don’t know what happened. The spoon won’t move anymore.”

 

“I’ll be right out,” Kaneki replied, splashing water onto his face and tousling his hair under the water before shutting it off. He hopped out, carefully stepping on the shower mat and gesturing quickly for a towel. Amon complied, tossing him a large blue one with his free hand. Kaneki caught it easily and rubbed it over his hair before wrapping it around his waist and stepping closer to view the bowl.

 

“The spoon won’t move, you say?” Kaneki asked, tilting his head and cleaning out his ear with his pinky. “Why not?”

 

“It’s like mixing cement.”

 

Kaneki paused as he processed what Amon said. “What?” he exclaimed, reaching for the bowl. “There’s no way you can manage that in less than five minutes!”

 

Amon surrendered the bowl willingly, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. “It’s a gift?”

 

Kaneki jerked the spoon, but it was already solidified into the batter. He braced himself and pulled harder, but it didn’t budge. He stared at it, dumbstruck. 

 

“I…I don’t know how you did this, but I can’t pull it out. And I’m _trying_. What the hell did you put in, Koutarou?”

 

“I put in everything the book said to put in!” Amon exclaimed, taking the bowl back. “I mean, it didn’t have the right serving size, so I just doubled a few things up, but—“

 

“Koutarou!” Kaneki interrupted, rubbing his temple incredulously. “That’s why! I can’t believe you’re this—” he paused, searching for the right word— “ _incapable_ of cooking! You didn’t even reach the oven this time! You were _mixing_.”

 

Amon tugged at the spoon dejectedly. “Now what do I do?”

 

Kaneki walked around Amon and grabbed another towel, drying off his chest. “Now, we go to the store and buy a cake.”

 

“You’re not going to bake?”

 

Kaneki fluffed his hair with one hand, staring at Amon through the mirror. “I think one mishap was enough, don’t you?”

 

“Then I guess I’ll…throw this away.”

 

“Second victim down. You’re on a roll!”

 

Amon frowned, placing the mixing bowl on the counter of the bathroom. He poked at the spoon again and sighed. “I just…I wanted to make it special, you know? She’s my partner. We’re supposed to have each others backs.”

 

Kaneki watched him and smiled a bit. “Hey,” he murmured, stepping in front of Amon and placing both hands on his cheeks, guiding him down to touch foreheads. He still had to stand on his tiptoes to reach fully. “She’ll understand. It’ll be fine, I promise. Nobody will mind if its store-bought. A cake does not measure your friendship.”

 

Amon shut his eyes and sighed again, his breath tickling Kaneki’s face. “I guess.”

 

Kaneki drew him in for a kiss, his wet nose smearing the flour stain on Amon’s cheek. “Well, I know,” he answered confidently, trailing a line of kisses down his neck and onto his collarbone as he settled onto both feet equally. His hands clung to the back of Amon’s shirt and he shifted his leg up as his kisses grew more passionate.

 

Amon bit his lip. “Maybe we can do this after we buy the cake,” he suggested, but his heart wasn’t in it. Kaneki grinned.

 

“Neither of us are quite ready to step out in public,” he pointed out, gesturing to his towel and Amon’s wet shirt. “So we might as well…?” he trailed off, biting his lip hopefully. 

 

“I guess you haven’t left me with much of a choice,” Amon remarked, lifting Kaneki into the air easily, his fingers digging into Kaneki’s thighs beneath the towel. “You did get my shirt wet.” 

 

Kaneki wrapped his legs around Amon’s waist and started unbuttoning his shirt, laughing. They had barely left the bathroom, bowl forgotten on the counter, before his shirt was on the floor and Kaneki was hungrily kissing his face again, his fingers tangled in Amon’s short hair. 

 

Amon kissed back, walking backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed. He sat on the edge, but Kaneki forced him to lay down. 

 

He crawled forward and sat upright, perched below Amon’s crotch as he quickly brushed his disheveled hair out of his eyes and began to unzip Amon’s pants.

 

He was just beginning to tug them lower when Amon’s pocket vibrated. 

 

Kaneki jumped slightly in surprise. “Excited to see me?”

 

“That’s my work phone, it’s probably important,” Amon managed, voice tight. He tried to get up, but Kaneki lazily pushed him back down with a hand, rummaging in the pocket and pulling out the phone with his other. He flicked the screen and answered it, holding a finger to his lips as Amon began to protest.

 

“Amon?” The voice over the phone was definitely female.

 

“Akira!” Kaneki replied, pleased. “Amon’s sort of busy right now, but his phone was laying around. What can I do for you?” Amon tried to get back up again, and Kaneki frowned, wagging his finger in the air. Amon ignored him and gestured for the phone. 

 

“Ah, Kaneki, hello. It’s about the party tomorrow—“

 

“Oh, I heard! Happy early birthday! Koutarou was baking you a cake earlier.” Amon sat upright and waved his hands in the air in frustration, but he stayed quiet. Kaneki leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth, holding the phone slightly away from their faces.

 

“Oh god, please tell me you stopped him.” Amon heard and pulled away from the kiss in silent outrage, staring at the phone.

 

Kaneki pulled away from Amon’s face and returned to the phone, balancing it between his shoulder and chin as he distracted Amon with his hands. “No worries there. But what’s up?”

 

A sigh came from the phone. “I can’t come tomorrow, so the whole thing needs to be rescheduled unless they want the party without me.”

 

“Are you alright?” Kaneki asked, worried, his hands slowly working their way down Amon’s chest to play with the edges of his underwear that peeked out from beneath his pants.

 

Amon was biting his lip, his back arching as Kaneki teased him a little bit before moving his hands back to safe territory. 

 

“I’m fine, just busy. Can you ask Amon how Friday works out? Please keep him away from the kitchen until then. Thank you.” The phone clicked off as she hung up. She wasn’t one to waste time.

 

Kaneki tossed the phone into the covers, shrugging as his thighs tightened around Amon. “The party is off. She told me I’m supposed to keep you away from the kitchen until after Friday.”

 

“I guess that means we don’t have anything else to do tonight?” Amon asked, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.

 

Kaneki grinned wickedly, leaning forward to wipe the remaining flour off his cheek. “No worries. I’ve got plans.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> so there's probably a great deal of parts that are ooc BUT I JUST NEEDED IT OKAY  
> I headcanon that Amon can't cook worth shit, usually Kaneki helps him out or he orders takeout.
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO, how do you title??? i just??? don't judge, alright


End file.
